


a long week’s journey towards light

by tinglingworld



Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer scare, Established Relationship, F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinglingworld/pseuds/tinglingworld
Summary: A callback from the breast clinic brings back demons long thought to be defeated and starts the longest week of their lives.
Relationships: Stella Gibson/Dana Scully
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	a long week’s journey towards light

„Dana?“

Stella’s voice carried through from the hallway and made Scully smile where she was cutting up the vegetables for dinner later. She’d had a day off pushed onto her for once again collecting too much overtime and had thoroughly enjoyed it. Spending a regular Thursday _not_ cutting open dead bodies was a nice change.

„In the kitchen“, she called back to Stella, putting down the knife to throw the diced carrots into a plastic container.

“Dana.”

Scully turned when she heard Stella stepping into the doorway and very nearly dropped the cutting board as soon as she looked at her.

“Stella!” she gasped, putting the offending object down, and hurried over to wrap hands around her girlfriend’s forearms.

The blonde looked like she might collapse any second. She still wore her coat and against the dark blue fabric the greyish color of her face was shocking. Adrenaline immediately rushed through Scully as she roamed her hands up Stella’s shoulders in a vain attempt to check for any injury.

“What happened?”, she asked, searching her eyes, trying to keep her voice steady.

Stella’s pale blue gaze was distant. Scully could see she was looking right through her even as her eyes settled on her. She smelled alcohol.

“I need you to keep me from going upstairs and cutting my thighs with the blades I just bought until I pass out.”

An icy horror fell over Scully and settled deep in her stomach as she simply stared at Stella for a moment. There was no discernable expression on her face, just pale blue unfocused eyes and the horrible greyish color of her skin.

Forcing herself to keep breathing, Scully nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she said, both to answer to Stella and to kick herself back into motion, “okay.”

She stepped next to the blonde and with a hand on her left arm and the other on the small of her back, guided her into the living room to sit down on the couch before perching on its edge herself.

“What happened?” she tried again, because she really didn’t know how to handle any of this if she didn’t even know what had brought it on. But Stella only shook her head, her hands now clenching and unclenching consistently, the only sign of the storm raging inside.

Scully felt panic rising at witnessing the woman she loved in this state of despair. She forced herself to take another deep breath, trying to remember anything her medical training had taught her about shock and psychological crisis. She came up embarrassingly empty.

Fighting the suffocating feeling of helplessness, she reached out and gently wrapped her hands around Stella’s to keep them from clenching.

“Stella, tell me what you need?”, she tried.

Stella’s eyes eventually met hers, still wrought-up and distant and Scully tried to convey as much love and understanding as possible.

“I need-,” Stella spoke, voice throaty and quiet before trailing off again as her fingers squeezed Scully’s almost painfully. That finally kicked Scully’s brain back into action.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

She waited for a sign of recognition from Stella before she extricated her hands and hurried back to the kitchen. As quickly as possible she searched through the overflowing freezer until she found the ice cube tray somewhere in the back. Putting it in the sink to run some hot water over it for a few moments, she grabbed a fresh dishtowel from the cupboard and then returned to Stella with both.

It took a little effort to get a cube out but eventually she managed. She reached for Stella’s hands again which she had clasped together in her lap, red lines appearing on her palms where she’d dug her fingernails in. Scully gently pulled Stella’s left into her own towel-covered lap and pressed the melting ice cube to her pulse point. Stella jumped at the touch but her eyes snapped onto Scully’s, focused for the first time since she’d walked in the door and Scully wanted to weep in relief.

“More,” Stella pleaded and Scully obliged, letting Stella hold the ice in place while she took more cubes out of the tray. She gave Stella one to hold in each hand and pressed two more against each of her wrists.

The cold seeped through Scully’s skin and made her shiver, but as she held Stella’s gaze, she could see her slowly come back from whatever dark place her mind had taken her. The melting ice left soaking wet spots on the towel and their legs and the carpet but Scully couldn’t care less as she watched Stella’s breathing deepening as the cold stung their skin.

When all the ice had melted, so apparently had Stella’s walls of self-defense. Scully could see dissociation giving way to pain when Stella whispered “Hold me” while her eyes watered and her lower lip quivered. Scully did. She wrapped her arms around her, allowing Stella to draw her legs underneath herself and put most of her bodyweight on Scully as she started crying, loud, heart-wrecking sobs shaking her entire body. Scully kept her close, stroking one hand through her hair and the other over her back while biting back her own tears. She had so many questions, her heart and mind racing, alternating between conjuring up conspiracy-worthy horror scenarios and completely blanking out- leaving behind only an intangible sense of panic.

It was supposed to be just a regular Thursday for fuck’s sake!

Stella’s crying eventually quietened but Scully didn’t seize the gentle stroking of her hands until Stella herself pulled away, sitting back and running her hands over mascara-streaked cheeks. Scully caught them and interlaced their fingers in the space between them.

“Tell me what happened? Please? I want to help.” 

Stella held her gaze for a couple of moments as Scully watched another war being waged behind her eyes.

Finally, quietly, she whispered: “I might have cancer.”

If Scully weren’t so emotionally strung up already, she might’ve screamed. Now, oddly, she felt like laughing. The impulse only lasted a second though, until she noticed Stella was crying again, impossibly more tears streaming down her face before she let her head fall forward and hid behind the curtain of her hair. It made Scully snap out of her stupor and she let go of Stella’s hands to instead gently frame her face, guiding her to look at her. Scully did her best to level her voice when she spoke:

“Slowly, okay? Who told you that?”

Scully’s hands, warm against her cheeks were comforting, as Stella closed her eyes and tried not to let her mind wander to images of greenish-grey hospital rooms and bald heads and death that had been haunting her for the last two hours since she’d first heard the word ‘cancer’ directed at her.

“The breast clinic,” she eventually replied to Dana’s question, “the doctor at the breast clinic I was at today.”  
She opened her eyes reluctantly, fearing to see the imminent anger and disappointment in Scully’s eyes. What she was met with, however, were love and worry and it made her choke on another sob as she tried to turn her face away. Dana’s hands wouldn’t let her though and so eventually she resigned to avoiding her eyes.

“Why were you there, darling?”

Stella took in a few shaky breaths, before she was able to answer. She didn’t want to explain. Everything was too much already. She’d already crumbled, all she wanted was for everything to stop.

But Dana’s clear blue eyes were focused on her with so much emotion she could feel it even without looking. And Dana deserved to know. She had to know.

Stella tasted blood when she finally released her lower lip from where she’d bitten it.

“I went for my first routine breast screening last week. I got a call on Monday that I should come back in. I didn’t think much of it…” She trailed off, feeling foolish and guilty for not telling Dana.

“Sometimes it’s just faulty technology,” Scully said easily, telling her it was okay before Stella could even address it.

Taking another careful breath, Stella continued:

“They said they found something on the images and needed to retake them. And then they did an ultrasound and- it’s a lump the size of a grape and so- I might have cancer…“ Her voice broke and she slumped, as the darkness she’d barely been keeping at bay leapt at her. But strong arms immediately pulled her back into a warm embrace. She clung to the back of Scully’s sweater and felt herself sinking. She couldn’t help it. Everything was entirely too much and she simply couldn’t cope. But Scully’s hands were caressing her back again and her lips brushed against her temple, and even though Stella just wanted everything to stop, these touches kept her anchored enough not to drown completely.

“Did they take a biopsy?”, she heard Scully’s voice soft at her ear.

“Yes,” Stella hiccupped in response, “Results next Friday.”

Dana didn’t say more, just pulled her closer and didn’t let go. Stella was so thankful for her, for keeping her from going under. She’d been so close. When she’d bought the blades after downing three drinks in a shitty pub next to the clinic she’d had no doubts what she’d do. Even as she had unlocked the door she’d still planned to just walk by the kitchen, up the stairs and lock herself in the bathroom to watch red circle down the drain, the pain blissfully validating before eventually leading to welcome darkness. Only now, as Dana’s warmth slowly seeped into her skin did the full gravity of that hit and she choked on air, pushing away from Dana’s arms.

Her eyes flitted to the ice cube tray on the couch table before finding Dana’s and for the first time she took in her expression, seeing fear and worry edged deeply into it.

“I’m so sorry.” It came out as a voiceless whisper. Shame and guilt flooded her in a way they had never done before. But before she hadn’t been with Dana- Dana who she’d scared shitless with this almost relapse to something she had only ever heard bits and pieces of.

“It’s okay, Stella. You’re okay.” Dana’s hands wrapped gently around hers as she spoke, “You came home and you came to me and you’re okay.”

Stella could only blankly stare at her in response.

“I don’t wanna die.”

She surprised herself so much with these words, she shuddered and gratefully let herself be pulled back into Dana’s arms, nuzzling into the space between her neck and shoulder

“I spend so many years not caring if I lived or died,” Stella whispered into her skin and Scully tried her very best not to show the effect hearing these words had on her.

“But now I do,” Stella continued almost inaudibly, “and now I might-“

“Shh,” Scully interrupted her, pressing a kiss against her temple, unwilling to hear the end of that sentence.

“You’re not dying, Stella,” she said firmly.

Stella only sniffled in response.

“I love you. You’re not alone. And whatever happens we’ll face it together.”

Scully pressed one more kiss to her temple before turning her head and settling her cheek against silky blonde hair as she simply held Stella close. Her mind was running a mile a minute, the inevitable adrenaline crash leaving her somewhat lightheaded and shaky, but she held on tight and forced herself to ignore all of her fears for the moment because this right now was about Stella. Scully knew personally how important it was that she made that clear. For the briefest of moments her memory flitted back to a hospital hallway, Mulder’s arms around her, almost physically holding her together after chemo and radiation had left her body weak and brittle. She’d needed that moment and so she gave it Stella now.

___________________________

Eventually, Scully got up and made tea. Stella changed out of her work clothes. They met back up in in the kitchen and even though it seemed impossible, things suddenly were very much like normal and it calmed Stella significantly.

She accepted the steaming mug Dana set down in front of her on the island counter and wrapped her hands around its warmth. Her eyes fell on the array of cut vegetables.

“You were preparing dinner,” she noted.

“I was”, Dana confirmed, “I was very much finished though. I just didn’t feel like cutting everything up tonight.”

Stella watched her as she put a lid on the plastic container and stored it in the fridge before washing up the cutting board and knife.

“What are you making?”

“Lasagna.”

She turned to look back at Stella over her shoulder with a smile that Stella couldn’t help but return.

“Your mom’s recipe or the 10-minute “we’re busy people, Stella, I’m not doing all of that”- version?”

Soapy water was snapped in her direction in response and Stella hid a grin her mug of tea.

“My mom’s recipe. I did have the day off after all,” Dana eventually said when she’d toweled off her hands and sat down next to her with her own mug.

Scully observed Stella as she sipped her tea, the slightest smile still on her lips. Stella loved lasagna and Scully was sure she’d happily pitch in later when she herself would complain about how making everything from scratch really was so unnecessary. She was glad to see Stella less distressed, even if it was a precarious peace. Her eyes fell to the sweater she had chosen to wear and it immediately made Scully smile.

“You’re wearing my sweater,” she noted.

Stella’s eyes flitted down her own chest for a moment before she met Scully’s.

“It’s comfy. And it smells like you.”

Scully’s heart warmed. She would never tire of hearing Stella casually say things like that. But she had brought it up for a different reason and she wanted Stella to know.

“It’s actually been Mulder’s. I think it must be some 30 years old.”

“I did wonder why you owned an Oxford sweater,” Stella replied and Scully smiled.

“I remember I stole it from him when he was staying with me after Chemo.”

Stella froze and for the briefest moment Scully regretted bringing it up, but then Stella turned and reached for her hands.

“What was it like?” she asked quietly, her eyes finding Scully’s and holding them, “not just Chemo but- all of it?”

Scully breathed deeply, relieved that Stella had taken the offer for what it was, as an invitation to talk. After enough years together she’d learned that Stella needed to talk to process things. It had to do with the way her mind worked: analytically, always looking at a situation from every impossible angle to gather all the information. It was after all what made her so good at her job. However, Scully had also learned that Stella rarely gave herself permission to process her own emotions in that way and so she’d slowly but steadily adapted to giving her the necessary nudging to do so.

“It was really hard,” she now answered truthfully, “but it also wasn’t impossible.”

Stella still held her gaze and Scully could see that she was again fighting fear and darkness but then she shook her head a little as if to throw both off.

“Tell me about it?”

Scully nodded in response. But instead of talking, she got up and pulled Stella up with her and out of the kitchen into the sitting room that at this time of day was bright and sun flooded. They settled on the carpet in front of the bay window-bench- decidedly the most blatantly ignored piece of furniture in their entire house, only ever serving as a backrest to this particular seating situation. Resting one elbow on the bench, Stella reached back for Dana with her free hand, tangling their fingers together. She found herself craving the contact today. Dana squeezed her hand and Stella was once more astounded by just how well she read and understood her. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy and at the same time it scared her. Just a little.

“What do you want to know?” Dana asked.

 _Nothing. Everything_. Stella felt her mind get away from her again and held tighter onto Dana’s hand while she worked through the stupor.

And then she asked question after question and Scully answered all of them and with every answer Stella felt the darkness trying to grip at her mind retreating a little more. Scully told her how she’d worked for months after getting the diagnosis. How she’d continued working even while she was getting Chemo. She told her, too, about how Mulder had been there dependably even when she’d yelled and screamed at him to leave.

When she had no more questions to ask, Stella felt exhausted but calm. Not necessarily less scared- but positive that that her mind wasn’t going to spiral again any time soon.

“Take the day off, tomorrow.”

Dana’s voice startled her after they had fallen silent a few moments ago in which she’d rested her head on her arm on the bench.

“Why would I do that?”

Scully rolled her eyes. That answer was so typically Stella.

“Because,” she started and pulled her legs underneath herself to give her enough leverage to pull Stella into her side by her waist, “you’ve been through a traumatizing, emotional day today and you deserve to catch your breath.”

Stella didn’t protest the rather decisive way in which she’d pulled her in, instead wrapping her arms around Scully’s torso as she settled her head against her shoulder.

“But you’ll be back at work tomorrow.”

“I don’t have to be. I have enough overtime to take another day off. Several, in fact. And I think they’d be happy if I did so they won’t have to keep reminding me to do so for another 6 months.”

“Hmm…”

Scully felt Stella hum against her collarbone while she rubbed circles into her waist over the washed-out grey fabric.

“What’d we do? I can’t sit around the house all day.”

“Whatever you want. Go down to the coast. See a show. Visit an art gallery.”

“The coast sounds good.”

“We can take a train to Brighton.”

“The UKs gay capital,” Stella smiled.

“Well, how fitting for us then, isn’t it?” Scully replied and this time Stella actually chuckled.

“Okay. Let’s take a train to Brighton tomorrow.”

__________________________________

They did spend the following day in Brighton and Stella had to admit it was nice to take a day off work. She didn’t do that much. Never before she met Dana, but rarely since still. She enjoyed being by the sea. It calmed her, at least for the time she spent staring at it while Dana had her arms around her waist and rested her chin on her shoulder.

They spend almost the entire day by the water, retreating only for coffee and food in between. The calm Stella found by the sea lasted her until the evening when they were already back at home in London, curled up on the couch while an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy was on. It lasted her still when they went to bed later that night and she fell asleep with her head resting on Dana’s chest, her rhythmic heartbeat gently lulling her to sleep. It didn’t, however, last her throughout the night.

Scully was woken up by a single loud scream. It made her come into consciousness so rapidly she could feel her racing heartbeat in her throat while she tried to orient herself. Some instinctual part of her wanted to reach for her gun before she remembered she hadn’t carried one of those in almost 10 years. Instead she reached for the lamp on the nightstand, bathing the room in warm light.

“I can’t breathe!”

Stella’s voice was a high-pitched cry that that Scully hadn’t heard in a long time and wished she’d never have to hear again, yet it immediately triggered the well-known emergency response. She shook off the comforter and got up to walk to Stella’s side of the bed. Reaching for Stella’s hands, she pulled her out of bed decisively.

“You’re gonna be okay. Get up.”

Stella gasped for air, her blue eyes everywhere, not focusing on a single thing for more than a second at a time, but she complied and let herself be pulled to her feet. Scully squeezed her hands tightly before dragging her towards the French doors that led out to the balcony. She opened them and stepped outside into the cool night air, pulling Stella along with her, before pushing her against the bannister and effectively trapping her between it and her own body. She stared into Stella’s eyes.

“Hold your breath,” she instructed.

“I can’t,” Stella gasped, “I can’t breathe.”

“Hold. Your breath,” Scully repeated, putting decades worth of experience making her voice heard in a boy’s club that wanted her silent to use to make her voice sound as authoritative as possible. She put her right hand on Stella’s chest, applying careful pressure, holding her gaze sternly.

She felt it when Stella eventually complied and stopped breathing.

“Good,” she whispered, softly now, “Good, keep holding it. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Breathe.”

Stella did, her body instinctually drawing in a deep lungful of air. Scully nodded encouragingly.

“Okay, again. Hold your breath.”

This time Stella immediately did and Scully counted down from 10.

They went through this again and again until Stella’s breathing came easy and naturally again.

“Okay?” Scully asked letting her free hand pluck a strand of blonde her from Stella’s sweaty forehead. Stella nodded slowly and Scully let her other hand drop from Stella’s chest to instead wrap both arms around her waist, pulling her just close enough to be still able to face her. Stella’s eyes told of about a hundred different emotions and Scully simply held her gaze, letting her know that it was okay, that every single thing she felt was okay. Eventually Stella let her head drop onto Scully’s shoulder, exhaling deeply.

“I think the worst is over”, she breathed against her skin.

“Good.”

She felt Stella’s hands come up to rest against her shoulder blades.

“I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

Scully could hear the defeat in Stella’s voice and it tugged at her heart more painfully than witnessing the actual panic attack.

“You didn’t. But it’s okay. Remember, it’s okay to feel things and to struggle with them.”

It was a conversation they’d had often in the early years of their relationship, when both of them were still struggling so much worse with their respective demons. Scully had had her own share of breakdowns that had made her both long for Stella’s comfort and want to keep her as far away as possible because she felt stupid for being this affected by her emotions in the first place. It was quite the same for Stella and it had taken them both a long time to accept the non-judgmental comfort the other willingly gave.

“Did you dream?”, Scully asked softly, running her fingers through Stella’s silky hair.

“Yes,” Stella replied, nuzzling, if possible, even closer into Scully’s neck.

“I was in the hospital. I’d lost my hair. People were coming by to say goodbye. Everyone was smiling at me sadly.”

“It’s not real.”

“Not yet.”

Scully shook her head decisively.

“It’s not real,” she repeated, “tomorrow, the day after, next week- none of that counts. Only today and today it’s not real.”

She felt Stella take a deep breath.

“It’s not real,” she repeated quietly.

“It’s not real.”

Scully pulled her a little tighter still and pressed her lips against Stella’s temple.

_____________________________________

The rest of the week went by in a blur, covering the entire spectrum between ‘business as usual’ and ‘existential despair’. Stella couldn’t help herself. Her mind repeatedly took her places she thought she’d left behind years ago and it scared her. It scared her enough to call her therapist whom she hadn’t seen in almost two years and ask for an appointment. Whatever the appointment at the breast clinic revealed, the simple fact that she had so easily spiraled out of control was a clear reminder that she wasn’t done with therapy, that her demons were by far not defeated- as much as she wanted them to be.

She saw Dr. Klein, probably the most gentle soul she had ever met, bundled up in the body of a heavy weighted but always immaculately put together woman in her early 60s, on Wednesday, spending pretty much the entire session crying: from fear, out of frustration, of anger. It was a lot and she was so emotionally exhausted by the end of it, she actually called Dana and asked her to pick her up because she wasn’t sure she was fit to drive. It was infuriating, the way in which her mental health impacted her when she’d thought she’d put all these problems behind her long ago. She started to believe the people saying “overcoming trauma conclusively isn’t possible” might be right.

By the time Friday rolled around, Stella was mostly just exhausted. She’d had another panic attack the night before, robbing both her and Dana of hours of sleep as every time she thought she had it under control another image of another hospital room popped up in her mind and she’d panicked all over again. It had been way past 5AM when they’d finally fallen asleep and the alarm had been set for 8:30.

Oddly, although exhausted, Stella didn’t feel anxious at all when she woke again. Her appointment was at 11:30 and Dana would be coming with her. Maybe she’d expelled all the anxiety from her system the night before, but even as Dana pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, she still felt oddly calm. It probably was just some kind of self-preservation but for the moment Stella wasn’t complaining. They locked the car and walked from the parking garage to the elevators. Dana reached for her hand and entwined their fingers when they stepped up to the registration desk.

“Are you okay?” Dana asked her when they eventually sat down in a square, window-less waiting room.

“I feel weirdly calm,” she replied truthfully, “I’m not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing.”

Dana gave her a small smile. Stella knew she was anxious, too.

“Miss Gibson?”

Stella jumped and Dana immediately squeezed her hand in assurance as they both got up to follow the nurse to the examination room where the doctor Stella had seen the week before was already sitting at his computer.

He greeted both of them with a firm handshake and gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk.

“Please, sit.”

They did and as she looked at the young doctor who, with his next few words would decide whether or not her entire life might change, all of Stella’s fears and worries suddenly returned with a vengeance and she actually physically shuddered, reaching blindly for Dana’s hand as she bit her lip hard to keep from crying when nothing had even yet been said.

Dana squeezed her hand tightly in response, brushing the other one gently up and down Stella’s forearm.

The doctor, Dr. Sanghera, apparently picked up on her tension, too because he offered a kind smile.

“Miss Gibson, I have the results of your biopsy and it’s **good** news. The changes in your breast are completely non-cancerous and require no treatment. You’ll be asked to come in for yearly mammograms instead of every three years, just to keep an eye out for any changes but otherwise I’m happy to tell you that you’re fine. You do not have breast cancer.”

Stella fell. She thought she might’ve fainted for a few seconds. When sound and vision returned to her, Dana was squeezing her arm tightly and only when she turned to face her, did Stella realize her cheeks were wet. She was crying. Before she could hide her tears from the unfamiliar doctor, Dana caught her hands and smiled at her widely.

“It’s okay,” she assured, and her eyes were so warm and loving and triumphant that for once Stella immediately believed her, the instinct to suppress the emotional wave rolling through her at the relief from the doctor’s words all but gone.

She nodded, slowly, feeling tears drip down her chin, not letting go of Dana’s gaze.

“I’m okay,” she said, needing to speak the words to unequivocally make them her own.

“You are,” Dana smiled, reaching up to brush the tears from her face.

Another shudder ran through Stella, but it wasn’t a bad one this time.

When Dr. Sanghera offered her a box of tissues she looked at his kind face and actually laughed, accepting one gratefully and dabbing at her face, trying to save her mascara.

“I think it’s too late for that,” Dana laughed and took the tissue from her hand.

“Do I look like a raccoon?”

“You look beautiful.”

It was cheesy and the doctor was still sitting on the other side of the desk but when Dana leaned in and kissed her, Stella felt like after a week of being upside down, her world had finally securely shifted back into place. And on what remained tilted she’d work on with the support system the past week had reminded her she had. She was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at titles. a lot. it took me two days to finally settle on this one and I still don't like it. I'm sorry.   
> I hope you enjoyed the story though. feedback is greatly appreciated!


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